Forgetfulness
by Les Lapins Mauvais
Summary: Ever do something and forget you did it? All the time. Horatio does some rather embarassing things when drunk. Slash, Horchie.
1. The Morning After

Author's note: I always knew there was an amusing story behind this brief exchange, and here it is. Slash, Horatio/Archie. Oh yeah, and if I owned stuff, this would have happened in the film. Unfortunately I don't, so it didn't. Many thanks to iheartHSO and Demus for being there to bounce ideas off of. I'm going away (to Portsmouth! Woot!) in a couple days, so it'll be a while before I post the next chapter. Sorry! But reviewing will make it happen quicker.

Forgetfulness 

Prologue:

"Ever do something and forget you did it?"

"All the time."

No, Horatio would not care to elucidate. Not a bat's chance in hell. And a good thing Archie hadn't heard the exchange, or he might have told Wellard more than Horatio wanted him to know. Or Bush, for that matter. Both of them saw Mr. Hornblower as firmly dedicated to his duty, a perfect example of propriety and gentlemanly behaviour. Wellard looked up to him as a role model, and he was slowly gaining Bush's respect. Neither of them knew anything that would be good material for blackmail, and Horatio intended to keep it that way, despite Archie and his big mouth. 'Scared of heights' indeed. However, he could not stop his mind from flickering back to that morning in Portsmouth, on their first shore leave after returning from prison in Spain. The night before, he and Archie had gotten very drunk indeed…

Chapter One: The Morning After

Horatio awoke with the formidable, scowling, parasol-wielding mother of all hangovers. Bright light beat against his eyelids, and he didn't even want to think about what would happen to his eyes were he to open them. They would probably shrivel to raisins and crawl away to the back of his skull to keep his pounding headache company. He didn't want to think, period.

Somehow he found the strength to moan and pull the pillow over his head. Unfortunately, this action drew unwanted attention from the other occupant of the room. Footsteps sounded across loudly creaking floorboards, and a solid form sat down on the edge of the bed, bouncing so that Horatio swore he could feel his brain knocking against the inside of his skull.

"Good morning, Horatio," Archie said, his voice mercifully low and soft. "This is a sorry sight."

Horatio's response was another groan.

"Come on," Archie urged, giving him a rather less merciful poke. Horatio tightened his hold on the pillow as Archie attempted to tug it away. "Rise and shine!" Archie's tone was quite definitely ruthless now, as well as being irritatingly cheerful. "Wake up and smell the flowers!"

"Bugger the flowers," Horatio croaked.

"I would, but I am afeared you would get jealous." Archie's chuckle sent lances of pain through Horatio's head, and, seeming to sense this, his next statement was kinder.

"How about wake up and smell the coffee?"

This got Horatio's attention.

"Coffee?"

"Good. I'll go get you some."

The weight on the bed lifted with a comforting pat to Horatio's shoulder, and a door opened and closed. After a few moments, and with the thought of coffee to sustain him, Horatio was able to open his eyes and sit up. He found himself in a small, unremarkable inn room, with a table and chair the only other furniture besides the bed. He frowned as he noticed his uniform in an untidy heap on the chair, but smiled when he realised that he was naked, and remembered why. Just then, Archie returned holding a steaming mug, which he handed to his friend. Where Archie had discovered the gem of information that Horatio liked his coffee scalding hot, black with no sugar, Horatio did not know, but he was exceedingly grateful. He returned Archie's warm smile as he lowered the mug from his lips.

"You're an angel, Archie," he informed him.

"Hardly." Archie's twinkling eyes took in Horatio's debauched state. "Honestly, Horatio," he continued, sitting down beside him again, "you look like you just climbed out of the oubliette in Ferrol."

Thankful that Archie was now able to joke about that terrible experience, Horatio replied wryly,

"I don't feel much better than I did then, I assure you."

Halfway through the mug, his headache was abating, and he was starting to feel almost human. It was then that Archie casually remarked,

"By the way, I don't suppose you remember what you did last night."

Horatio was confused.

"I got drunk, clearly."

Archie's smile was just a little bit wicked. He took the coffee away from Horatio, who relinquished it with a whimper of protest. He set it carefully on the floor, and without further ado, cupped Horatio's face in his hands and kissed him soundly. Horatio's brain gave up the feeble attempts it had made to think, and let him settle into the comfortable familiarity of kissing Archie, who pulled away as soon as Horatio started to respond.

"Wh…what?" Horatio asked, as intelligently as he could.

"That's what you did."

"Hm?"

"Last night. In the pub. You kissed me in front of…oh, say…several dozen other people."

A spark of recollection returned, and Horatio groaned.

"Oh, hell. Did I really?"

Archie nodded solemnly.

"But I…we…"

Archie thrust the mug into Horatio's hands again.

"Drink your coffee, Horatio," he ordered, "It will help keep your mind off the pain."

Horatio forced down another sip, but his mind was now relentlessly, though still muzzily, seeking answers.

"Did they notice?" he asked.

"Who?"

"The 'oh, say…several dozen other people'?"

"Oh, them. Yes, a few of them did anyway. They pointed and laughed and made disparaging comments about drunken sailors."

"But they didn't arrest us or anything?"

Archie gestured to the room, which was obviously not a jail cell.

"Of course not. You could scarcely stand, Horatio. They had no way of knowing that you would have done the same thing sober. Though not, I think, under the same circumstances."

"No, indeed I would not. In that situation, that is."

"So I merely removed your lips and hands from my person, stated the obvious to you in a stern voice—'You're drunk'—then settled our bill and hauled you upstairs. You may remember what happened next."

Horatio looked down at himself, still lying in bed naked.

"I can guess."

"That's good, because otherwise I'd have to give you a demonstration." Archie smiled invitingly.

Horatio, ever the cunning strategist, looked at him quizzically.

"Demonstration? Of what, Archie? I don't remember."

Archie rolled his eyes.

"I thought you were dying in agony."

"The coffee helped," Horatio replied, setting the now empty mug down on the floor and giving his Archie his most pleading, persuasive expression.

"Well, in that case…" Archie drew him closer for another kiss, and the rest of the morning was spent very agreeably.

Then came the infamous occasion when they 'drank Portsmouth dry' in celebration of being transferred to Captain Sawyer's command. Archie made the great mistake of getting too drunk to restrain Horatio, and things went downhill from there.

To be continued. Dant dant daa…


	2. The Night Before

Sorry for the shockingly long delay (if anyone is still reading this)! I actually forgot that I hadn't posted the last two chapters of this, so here they are. P

Forgetfulness, Chapter 2

The Night Before

Then came the infamous occasion when they 'drank Portsmouth dry' in celebration of being transferred to Captain Sawyer's command. Archie made the great mistake of getting too drunk to restrain Horatio, and things went downhill from there.

The evening began as usual, with Horatio and Archie consuming an equal number of drinks and Horatio quickly becoming the drunker of the two. Archie kept trying to make Horatio laugh while the latter's mouth was full of ale, and actually managed one occasion to make it come out of his nose. Archie had a celebratory pint while Horatio tried to wipe off his new uniform.

Someone started to play a piano then, and both sailors joined in the rowdy singing that the sprang up to accompany it. Horatio in particular seemed to be enjoying himself, raising his latest drink and spilling most of it as he swayed in time to the music.

Suddenly he felt ill, and got up to make his way to the door. Archie followed him, concerned. Somehow, they ended up going out the back way, and breathing in the fresh night air in an alley rather than the main thoroughfare.

It seemed to steady Horatio a little, leaving him still very drunk but no longer queasy. On an impulse, Archie pushed him against the outside wall of the tavern and sought his mouth. He found it flavoured with alcohol, and eagerly responding to his touch. Actually Horatio's whole body was responding, pulling Archie against him and curving so they fit together perfectly. Archie made a noise of contentment and sucked on Horatio's tongue, but he was not becoming as aroused as he expected, his reaction dulled by the alcohol thrumming through his veins.

"Makes a man and it mars him," he slurred, pulling away for air.

"Wha?" Horatio asked, eyes not quite focused and lips deep red in the dim light spilling from the doorway. Archie tried to explain about the drunken porter scene from Macbeth, but Horatio just laughed, and he suspected he wasn't making much sense. Reaching down, he found Horatio's arousal to be as tepid as his own.

"Sh'we go upstairs now?" He asked, moving back but keeping one hand on the wall.

"One more drink?" Horatio replied, moving toward the door and staggering. Archie caught his arm.

"Lush," he teased. They leaned on each other for support as they followed the hallway back towards the main room of the tavern. Suddenly Horatio stopped, his attention caught by something on the wall beside him. Archie looked.

There were pegs there, holding the serving maids' outer garments, merely light shawls and bonnets at this time of year. Horatio reached out, and, after a couple of tries, picked up one of the bonnets. It was a lovely confection, white straw bedecked with lavender ribbons and two large, vertical white ostrich plumes. Horatio gazed at for a moment in awe, then set it haphazardly on his head. Archie laughed at the sight, but Horatio's face, framed by thick brown curls beneath the brim, was nonetheless alluring.

"Here, lemme help you,' Archie offered, reaching for the dangling ribbons. His fingers fumbled, but eventually he managed to tie a crooked bow under Horatio's chin.

"There," Archie said, giving him another sloppy kiss, "you look pretty."

"'M not pretty," Horatio started to protest, but Archie was already propelling him back into the light and noise of the tavern, calling for more drinks.

Conversation stopped momentarily at the sight of the formerly distinguished naval officer wearing a ladies' bonnet, and the girl to whom it belonged giggled loudly. Then the man at the piano began to play again, and Horatio was out of Archie's reach, steered by the crow toward a table in the middle of the room. Many willing pairs of hands helped him up, and he stood on it swaying, a fresh mug of ale in his hand, leading the singing.

As well as pitching like a ship in storm, Horatio found that the room was also getting uncomfortably hot. His jacket was already unbuttoned and he pulled it off, drawing an appreciative whistle from someone in the crowd. Still too warm, and noting this favourable response, Horatio started to unbutton his waistcoat. His slowness was due more to drunken incompetence than a desire to be provocative, but it had the same effect on Archie. He stared at Horatio, transfixed, until a commotion at the door attracted his attention.

To his surprise, it was Captain Pellew who was entering the tavern, accompanied by Lord Edrington, who appeared to already be several sheets to the wind. Archie made his way over to greet them.

"We thought it advisable to leave the last public house after a certain gentleman took offence at a remark of the Major's," Pellew explained. Edrington was either too respectful of the older man, or too drunk, to remind him of his aristocratic title.

"I only called his mother a whore-begotten, pox-ridden doxy,' Edrington put in, snarkiness intact even thought his diction was not. At that point, both newcomers noticed Horatio, flinging his waistcoat into the crowd, while singing at the top of his lungs and wearing The Bonnet, its feathers swaying ridiculously with his dancing.

"Innat oneayour officers, Edward?" Edrington asked, trying to focus. Archie was impressed that he had actually been able recognise Horatio in that get-up.

"Hornblower?" Pellew asked incredulously. "Mr. Kennedy, what have you done to my Lieutenant?"

"Nothing, sir," Archie said, eyes wised and innocent. "It was his idea."

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Edrington said, hoisting up his yard and vanishing in the direction of Horatio's table.

Archie and Pellew exchanged incredulous glances, eyebrows raised, before Archie realised the danger that his poor virtuous Horatio was in.

"Excuse me, sir" he said, trying to salute and missing his head by several inches. Then he turned and set off, hot on Edrington's trail. Pellew shook his head, smiling fondly at the antics of the drunk, horny, and possessive young men.

Horatio was startled when red-coated arms wrapped around his waist from behind, and he uttered a squeak as he attempted to spin around. He nearly staggered off the edge of the table, but Edrington held on to him firmly an staggered in the opposite direction, so they ended up with a shaky equilibrium. Just then, Archie reached the table and scrambled up too.

"This is better than a play, this is," someone remarked to Captain Pellew, who nodded and smiled. Archie pulled Edrington away from Horatio and grabbed the bonnet-clad man himself, facing him. Horatio grinned at him, a blinding smile of anachronistically white teeth. The man at the piano bean to play a new song, a waltz. Archie leaned closer and whispered in Horatio's ear,

"May I have the honour of this dance?"

Horatio giggled, doing a perfect impression of a blushing maiden. Archie took one of Horatio's hands in his own, wrapping his other around Horatio's waist. Edrington watched them intently, and moved forward to embrace Archie from behind. Archie was startled, but after a moment of warm body pressing against his back, and warm, brandy-scented breath on his neck, he decided he didn't really mind. He began to waltz in clumsy circles with Horatio, counting "one…two…three" under his breath. Horatio's brow was furrowed in concentration as he actually tried to learn the dance.

"One…two…six" he muttered, and Archie burst out laughing at his drunkenness, unaware that Horatio counted this way when sober too. Archie's hand, seemingly of its own accord, wandered under the untucked hem of Horatio's shirt, and Horatio's hand crept around the back of Archie's neck, fingers curling into his queue. Their bodies moved closer as they danced. Edrington was trying to unbutton Archie's waistcoat, and his lips brushed against Horatio's hand.

Everyone else in the tavern stared at the three men, open-mouthed. They wondered how the entertainment had gotten so shocking, before it suddenly got even more so. Archie, frustrated by the caressing hands on his chest and Horatio's close proximity, released Horatio's hand and grabbed his bonnet strings, dragging him into a steamy kiss.

Edrington pressed closer behind him, and he could feel that the man was not quite so incapacitated from drink as one might expect. At this point Captain Pellew decided to intervene, for the sake of all the officers' reputations.

"Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Kennedy, Lord Edrington, desist at once," he bellowed in his loudest quarterdeck voice. This got their attention, and they reluctantly broke apart. Pellew made his way through the milling crowd, who were now muttering in disappointment that the show was over.

"Off the table, gentlemen, if you please," he ordered, and they obediently complied.

"Mr Hornblower—" Pellew was somewhat at a loss for words as he removed the bonnet perched lopsidedly on his Lieutenant's head. Seeing him like this, so flushed and tousled, made Pellew regret that circumstances had not—well, no use thinking of that now. Hornblower had made it abundantly clear where his affections lay. Pellew handed the bonnet to the serving maid who came forward to claim it, and steered the two lieutenants towards the stairs.

"Time you got to bed," he told them, firmly restraining himself from thinking about what they would do there. Edrington moved to follow them.

"I think I'd better make sure the get there all right," he explained to Pellew's questioning eyebrow. Ungrateful bastard, Pellew thought, I cart him around to every tavern in town and he thanks me by running off to seduce my officers. I'll have to teach him a lesson when he returns, and make sure he is suitably repentant.

He watched the three men stumble upstairs, then wondered what he would do for company that night. He scanned the room, and caught the blue-grey eye of a man sitting in the corner. Pellew had noticed him earlier, observing the proceedings with interest, and the man had curly brown hair like Hornblower. The captain sauntered over and introduced himself.

"Pleased to meet you, " the man said. "I'm William Bush." Pellew was very happy to be able to further their acquaintance.

Horatio awoke warm and cozy despite his brain-mangling hangover. Archie was snuggled up at his side, and Horatio nestled closer into his shipmate's embrace, seeking the oblivion of sleep again. Archie stirred, groaning, and they clung to each other in an effort to assuage their pain. Both were mightily startled by a voice coming from Horatio's other side. He looked round to see Lord Edrington lying in bed with them.

"How the hell did he get in here?" He asked Archie. Archie shrugged, and Edrington smirked, remarking,

"You'll never guess what you did last night."

To be continued…


	3. Two Years Later

Forgetfulness, Chapter 3

Two Years Later

Captain Hornblower was having serious misgivings about this whole wedding idea, not that he had really liked it in the first place. Maria, glowingly happy, came through the door of the church, next to her old harpy of a mother. Horatio felt his chest constrict with apprehension, an utter sense of wrongness. This should not be happening to me, he thought, I don't even like women.

Lieutenant Bush felt the same foreboding, but his attention was distracted by the bonnet Maria was wearing. It niggled at his brain, giving him the feeling of almost grasping something just out of his reach. It was like leaning over the ship's side—a little further and he would have it, but he was terribly afraid that the extra inch would send him plummeting into the ocean. Bush glanced at Horatio, who was frowning worriedly, then back to the bonnet. Horatio, bonnet, Horatio, bonnet….

"Bloody Hell!" Bush exclaimed, far too loudly. Maria stopped walking down the aisle, and Horatio turned to stare at him halfway through standing up, as did everyone else in the church. He was too amazed by the revelation he had just made, however, to be able to stop the flow of words leaving his mouth.

"I thought you looked familiar when I first met you on the Renown, Horatio. It's been bothering me all these years, the question of why I knew your face, And I just remembered! At the Green Serpent Inn, in Portsmouth, that night in '01!"

Horatio looked at him with an almost comical expression of shock and horror. He knew exactly what Bush was talking about, although he had had no idea that his Lieutenant was there.

"You were falling over drunk," Bush continued inexorably, "and you got on a table and started singing, wearing a ladies' bonnet."

Everyone in the church gave a collective gasp of astonishment, some craning their necks to stare at Horatio. Bush kept going.

"Then you started taking your clothes off, and Mr. Kennedy and some lobster got up on the table with you, and you were dancing with them. Then you and Mr. Kennedy started kissing, and your hands were—"

"Thank you, Mr. Bush, that is quite enough!" Horatio finally found his voice. After giving Bush a fearsome death-glare, he slowly raised his head to look at Maria. Her eyes were wide and moist, her upper lip trembling.

"Oh Horry! This can't be true!" She exclaimed, rushing toward him. Horatio was mortified that his youthful folly should have been thus exposed, afraid that he had let her down and deceived her into thinking that he would make a good husband. And yet he could not lie to her.

"Maria," he said gently, "I cannot deny it. Every word of what Mr. Bush said is true. But that was long ago—"

"Yes, two whole years," Bush put in. Horatio ignored him.

"—and it is all in the past now. I assure you that such a thing will never happen again."

"You…you were drunk?" Maria asked tearfully, reassured by Horatio's honesty and kind tone.

"Yes, you see, Archie's promotion had just been confirmed, and we were being transferred together to the Renown, captained by the famous Captain James Sawyer. Turned out he was a raving lunatic, but of course we didn't know that then…" he trailed off awkwardly.

"And…and the bonnet?" Maria was sure that there was a rational explanation for everything.

"I was drunk, Maria,. And it was very pretty." His eyes flickered appraisingly to her bonnet, and she stepped back a little.

"The dancing? The- the kissing?" She blushed to talk of such a thing.

"The other two gentlemen were very good friends of mine, and we were drunk, and, well, you see- I'm a sodomite." Horatio was determined that Maria should know all his flaws before they were married. Maria let out a little shriek of horror, and turned toward her mother, who had come up behind her.

"I'll not have my daughter marry someone like you!" Mrs. Mason exclaimed, clinging to Maria protectively. "I should have known better- a sailor! Mr. Mason was the same! Oh—" She burst into noisy tears, pulling her daughter toward the door.

"Horatio," Maria called back, "How could you? I thought I knew you, and now—" She was weeping as well, as the two women left the church. The other guests followed swiftly after them, bustling like a frightened herd of sheep, and looking over their shoulders at Horatio as if he was about to bite their heads off. When he and Bush were left alone, Horatio sank down on the pew with his head in his hands.

"Sir?" Bush enquired gently, "Sir, are you all right?"

Horatio nodded slightly.

"My apologies, sir. Perhaps I spoke at an inopportune moment. I am very sorry, sir, that you won't be getting married."

Horatio looked up, startled.

"What? I won't be getting married?"

The full import of situation dawned on him, and he looked a good deal happier than might be expected for a man in his situation. Before Bush could comment on this, a woman burst into the church and ran down the aisle towards them.

"Horatio!" She called, in an almost-familiar, rather deep voice. Horatio turned. Oh God, he thought, will women never leave me alone?

"Er… can I help you, ma'am? Do I know you?"

The lady rolled her eyes audibly, though her face was covered by a thick veil.

"It's me, you fool," she said, giving Horatio a rush of recognition and hope. He reached for the veil, and slowly lifted it to reveal- Archie Kennedy!

For a moment Horatio could do nothing but gape in amazement. The his gaze swept over Archie's body. He was wearing a cornflower blue and white striped dress, and a navy blue spencer that was reminiscent of his Lieutenants' uniform. It was elegantly fitted over his muscular shoulders and padded false bosom, and he looked quite stunning. A straw bonnet covered his head, decorated with white and blue ribbons and the veil that had concealed his face. His figure and features were unmistakable even in this costume, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement at Horatio's confusion, and his pink lips grinning.

"Archie!" Horatio exclaimed, for lack of anything better to say. Then Archie reached for him, and Horatio eagerly rediscovered the elysium of Archie's mouth. They wrapped their arms around each other, and Horatio could feel Archie's sturdy body beneath the crinkling muslin. They probably would not have stopped kissing for another few hours, but that Archie drew back swiftly, and gave Horatio a hard, open-handed slap across the face.

Horatio stared at him, lips bruised red and his cheek flushing angrily.

"You traitor!" Archie cried, his eyes blazing. "You were about to get married! To a woman!"

"I- I'm so sorry, Archie. You see, well, I thought you were dead."

"That's no excuse!"

A thought occurred to Horatio.

"So- you're not dead, then?"

Archie looked as if he wanted to slap him again.

"Of course I'm not, you daft idiot! I was only pretending."

"Oh."

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I… I was distracted with grief, Archie. I scarcely knew what I as doing. I've only ever loved you."

Archie succumbed to Horatio's sincere tone and puppy dog eyes within moments, and they melted into each others' arms again, with murmurs of "I'm so glad you're not really dead, darling," and "I missed you terribly, sweetheart," interspersed between kisses.

Bush was slightly disgusted by this melodramatic and sentimental display, and he was about to leave, when another person entered the church. He or she was wearing a dress, but Bush wasn't about to trust his initial assumption after what had just happened. The dress was a striking shade of turkey red, accompanied by a deep red velvet spencer and a flamboyant bonnet, also decked with a veil as well as outrageous bows and flowers.

"Monsieur Boosh," an unmistakable voice said.

"Major Côtard?" Bush exclaimed incredulously.

"Oui."

With some trepidation, Bush lifted the veil to reveal the handsome Frenchman's face, smiling at him above a lacy collar.

"Boosh… William. Je t'aime." He said simply.

Bush guessed that Côtard was saying something important, although he had no idea what it could be.

"My apologies, sir, but—" he was unsure of how to explain that he didn't know any French.

"You ignorant Englishman!" Côtard cried impatiently, "I said I love you!" He threw up his hands in a gesture of hopelessness, but Bush caught them and held them tenderly.

"I shall endeavour to learn your language," he promised, unable to tear his eyes from Côtard's amorous gaze, "remind me how to say I love you?"

"Je t'aime," Côtard breathed, leaning closer.

"Je t'aime," Bush repeated, before closing the distance between their lips. In a moment Côtard had him backed up against a pew, ravishing his mouth and grasping fistfuls of his dark curls.

It was at this point that the vicar returned from where he had been hiding in the vestry. After standing frozen for a moment in shock and confusion, he cleared his throat loudly and the two couples broke apart.

"This is entirely inappropriate behaviour for unmarried couples!" he thundered, unaware that a much more serious sin was actually being committed. However, his words gave Horatio an idea. He went down on one knee in front of Archie, taking one of his hands in his own.

"Archie Kennedy," he said, "Will you marry me?"

"Of course I will, Horatio," Archie replied, drawing Horatio to his feet and embracing him.

When Côtard knelt down in front of Bush, the vicar was a little surprised. Wasn't the man supposed to be the one proposing? Well, the woman was French if her accent was anything to go by, and Lord knew what strange customs they had over there.

He married them without undue ceremony, with each couple standing in as witnesses for the other. He raised his eyebrows a little at the veiled women's names, but a purse of coins abruptly silenced his questioning.

Matthews and the other sailors were still waiting outside to form a bower of swords for the newlyweds to walk under. However, the carriage had disappeared, along with the wedding breakfast at the inn, so they all went to a pub instead. Admiral Pellew found them there, and toasted to the happy couples. Later on, Lord Edrington showed up, resplendent in a devastatingly elegant moss green silk gown trimmed with black lace, and black ostrich plumes in his fair hair. A splendid time was guaranteed for all.

The End


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